


Choices

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hugs, Hurt Rowena MacLeod, Post-Episode: s14e14 Ouroboros, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 16:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18123521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena feels guilty for saying yes to Michael. You comfort her.





	Choices

After what Rowena had done, any normal person would have cut ties with her right away and proclaimed, loud and clear, they never wanted to see her again.

You weren't a normal person.

Even after she'd given a murderous archangel permission to possess her body. Even after said archangel had taken innocent lives in cruel, painful ways — the same lives she'd worked hard to save nearly a year ago. Even after the blood of his victims — her victims — stuck to her skin like crusted, crimson glue, a grim reminder of what she'd let happen. Of what she'd helped happen. You still loved her, still cared about her all the same. Not a shadow of a doubt, of indifference, crossed your face, not even for a moment.

Rowena couldn't understand that. She couldn't understand you. She never could. You'd supported her from day one. Never judged her, never thought badly of her. Even back when you were nothing but an apprentice and she was more than willing to leave you for dead (or kill you herself) if circumstances required it, you still stuck by her. You knew she didn't care about you a single bit, that she wasn't, at the time, capable of anything remotely similar to love, and you still saw something in her. You loved her, and you'd patiently waited for her to allow herself to love you back.

Something had made you give her a chance. Something had made you give her countless chances, forgive her many sins she was certain not even Chuck himself could find it in him to forgive despite admitting to finding her a guilty pleasure.

You were too naive. Or dumb.

Or some strange instinct had made you recognize the good in her and, for reasons unknown, you'd decided to trust it.

Michael could have killed you. He wanted to kill you; Rowena could feel the desire in him, cold and sadistic, exciting him from the depths of his being. He wanted to hurt you until you begged for death. For no other reason than that he could. That Rowena had made it possible. He'd made sure to make her aware of it, made her see and hear and feel everything. All the chaos, all the bloodshed and destruction and his growing desire for more, more, more. He relished in the pain. Rowena was terrified.

You stood there, ever brave, ever protective. You stood up to him — stood up for  _ her. _ Cried for her. Screamed for her. Begged for her. And when Jack had burned the monster out, you ran to her and held her tightly against you, seemingly intent on never letting go. You didn't care about the blood covering her, didn't care that mere moments ago her body was paraded around by a lunatic intent on burning the world to the ground. All you cared about was her.

You helped her stand up. Took her to your temporary room and ran her a bath, then went back to check up on her. Rowena, tired, spent up, let you undress her and lead her to the bath. She let you wash her, let you wipe and scrub the blood away, let you make the evidence of what she'd done disappear. The water was pink with it by the time you were finished. You wrapped her in a soft robe you'd borrowed from the Winchesters and took her back to the bedroom.

Rowena remained quiet throughout the entire ordeal. He hands were trembling, thoughts a mess of words and images that made no sense, that hurt to try to straighten out into coherence. People were dead because of her.  _ You _ were almost dead because of her. Sam, Dean, Castiel, Jack… they all could have died, all because she'd said yes. Because, while she knew the archangel wasn't to be trusted, a part of her hoped he'd make good on his word.

The other part hoped Sam would end her before he could do too much damage.

You helped her crawl into a pair of pajamas, as red as the blood that had clung to her hands and neck earlier. You took such good care of her. She didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve your kindness. Didn't deserve your love

"Do you need anything?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside her. Your hand reached for hers. She let you take it, let you thread your fingers through her trembling ones. "I can make you a cup of tea. Honey and a splash of milk. Your favorite!"

You flashed her a smile. Rowena's heard throbbed with a sharp ache, as if a knife had vedged in it and twisted with every display of kindness she was gifted with, every sweet word and loving touch. Why were you being so nice to her? Why didn't you blame her? Why didn't you scream at her and throw things and tell her what an idiot she was?

Why, why, why?

Rowena shook her head. "No, thank you."

"How are you feeling?"

She stiffened. She'd been expecting that question. It was your trademark of sorts, something you asked whenever she was in distress.

"Fine," she replied, her standard answer. Always a lie. Never good enough to fool you.

You sighed. "You can do better than that."

She could. She just didn't have the strength. Sucking in a breath, she said, "I let everyone down."

"That's not true," you fired right away. Always quick to defend her, no matter how badly she messed up. "You did what you had to do."

That was what her entire life was about — doing what she had to do. For her benefit. For her gain. Every atrocity she'd committed a grave necessity.

She was past that excuse now. Gone were her days of evil.

Or so she'd thought until today.

Rowena chuckled, bitter, depreciating. "I could've said no."

"He would've done the same thing," you told her.

Maybe. But he wouldn't have used her body to do it, wouldn't have sprayed her hands and neck with innocent blood. Wouldn't have made her feel his sadistic excitement while doing so.

"He tricked you," you said. "It's what he does."

Didn't mean she had to let him.

"He was right, you know," Rowena said.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. "About what?"

"I knew he wouldn't keep his word." Her throat burned as the words left it, prickly like needles. "I hoped he would, but I had my doubts." Another bitter chuckle slipped her mouth, a mockery aimed at herself. "I thought Sam would end it before anything bad happened. Well, anything irreparable."

"No."

You shook your head. Rowena averted her eyes. She couldn't look at you, couldn't bear the betrayal on your face.

"No," you repeated. "No. You didn't."

"I did."

"No!"

You jumped to your feet and started pacing left to right, a mad, restless circle. Rowena's fingers sank into the fabric of her pajama bottoms, curled around them tightly, knuckles flashing white as sheets. She willed herself to keep her eyes aside, to keep them anywhere but at you. Your distress was already killing her. Seeing it would destroy her.

"You're just trying to get a rise out of me," you accused, voice raspy, shaky. You were crying. Good god, you were crying, and it was all her fault.

"Do you think I'd do that?"

"You would!"

Fair point.

"I'm not," Rowena said.

"You are! You have to be!" you insisted. "Because if you're not, that means you wanted to die."

"I didn't  _ want _ to die. It was a necessity."

"Leaving me alone would be a necessity?"

Rowena flinched as if struck. She would have preferred you striking her to throwing the painful truths she didn't want to face right at her.

"It would be better than you getting hurt."

Better than you getting  _ killed. _

"I'd be alone!" you exclaimed. "And it would  _ hurt! _ It would hurt more anything Michael could do to me!"

The words, the sheer truth of them, stung. You loved her more than anyone ever had. More than even yourself. If she were to die, a large part of you would die with her, and that hole in your heart would never refill. You would never be whole again.

Even still…

"You would  _ live!" _ Rowena argued.

"I don't want to live without you!" you shot back.

And neither did she without you. The two of you, she thought with a touch of bitterness, had become as codependent as the Winchesters. Unhealthily so. There was a time when she would've scoffed and rolled her eyes at the mere idea of it; proud and independent Rowena MacLeod didn't care about anyone, didn't need anyone to that degree. But now, it gave her comfort of sorts. It was dangerous and far from healthy, but it felt good to be loved so purely by someone. It felt good to  _ love  _ someone like that.

Just because it felt good, though, didn't mean it was right.

"You have a whole life ahead of you," Rowena said.

"And I wanna spend it with you," you told her.

"I've lived long enough."

"Not with me. I've only had you for four years." You shook your head in emphasis of your words. "It's not enough."

It wasn't. It wasn't nearly enough. She wanted to spend so many more years with you, so many centuries.

But she couldn't always get what she wanted. Neither of you could. Sometimes, sacrificed needed to be made, no matter how much they hurt. No matter how many dreams got shattered in the process.

"Y/N—"

You cut her off, a bitter laugh on your mouth. "I liked you better when you were a selfish bitch."

No, you didn't. She didn't like herself when she was like that, either. "I didn't care about you back then."

"I don't care," you said, but the look on your face told her you did, that it hurt to remember her loveless and cold and caring only about herself, the rest of the world be damned. You were just a prop to her back then. Your power nothing but a marionette she'd planned to use for her gain. A status symbol of her own power — a witch she'd basically created from scratch, whose magic she'd helped grow and prosper. A  _ take that _ to the failed Grand Coven. "You cared about yourself."

"I still bloody care about myself!" Rowena said, rising to her feet. Her words were sharp as whips, as deadly as knives. "You think it was easy to make that choice? It wasn't! I had to make a decision for the benefit of us all, so I did. It wasn't the best decision in hindsight, but it was the best one at the time!"

Why couldn't you understand it? Why did you have to be so bloody stubborn?

You let out a sob. One, two, three, they tore free from your mouth like explosions of sadness, loud and piercing. A pang of pain shot through Rowena's heart with each devastating sound. Regret bloomed in her like wildflowers, guilt roiling in with it, rummaging her from the inside. She hurt you. She made you cry. She'd tried to avoid it, yet that was exactly what she'd ended up doing.

Why did you continue to put up with her? She wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth your life, your concern. Wasn't worth saving. Her life, full of one bad decision after another, full of destruction and ruin and heartlessness, wasn't worth your own. How could you love someone like her? Someone who, even when she tried to do the right thing, ended up making everything worse? Ended up with innocent blood on her hands, yours slated to join it had the wee nephilim not exorcised the evil out of her.

The evil she'd let possess her.

"I would've killed Sam," you said after a short moment, swallowing another surge of overwhelming sobs. Your tone was serious, decisive. Honest to the very last word.

Rowena knew you would. Or would want to, at the very least. If she was to die at the younger Winchester's hands, you would avenge her. No matter how justified her death was. If he caused it, he would pay for it.

"You know what? I  _ will  _ kill Sam."

"No, you won't," Rowena said with a shake of her head.

"I will." She made herself look at you, and the look on your tear-drenched face sent chills down her spine. You wanted to do it. You wanted to kill Sam. "I'll do it. I'll strangle him with my bare hands if it means you'll stop putting yourself in danger."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Rowena snapped.

You ignored her. "If he's dead your fate changes, right? So it'll all work out."

"I won't let you!"

"Why not?" you demanded.

"Because it's wrong!"

Because Sam was her friend. Because he'd listened to her when she was at her worst, and had given her a second chance. Just as you had. She needed someone else to be kind to her in her life. She needed someone else to care about her. She needed a friend.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" you snapped, desperate, on the verge of a breakdown. More tears spilled down your face. You wiped them away with the back of your hand, only for another batch to replace them right away. "How am I supposed to keep you safe? How am I supposed to protect you?"

"You're not," Rowena replied, heart shattering. She took your hands into both of hers and squeezed them. "You've done so much for me. Words can't express my gratitude. But there will come a time when you will have to let me go."

"I can't," you whimpered, shaking your head manically. "I won't."

"You will have to," she repeated. Her eyes filled with tears, a few slipping free and painting her cheeks red. She willed a small smile.

"No."

"Yes. But I will make sure that day doesn't come anytime soon."

You looked her in the eyes, a glimmer of hope brimming in yours. "No more suicide attempts?"

"Not if I can help it."

Only if it was absolutely necessary, Rowena thought. Michael had tricked her, had broken his word as soon as her eyes shone his bright blue for the first time. If she had to sacrifice herself, she would. But first she'd give it a lot of thought, weigh down all options and scenarios that could go wrong. She couldn't afford another slaughter of innocents. Couldn't afford another useless sacrifice that did nothing but hurt her, and hurt you in the process.

Flashing a happy smile, you threw your arms around her and pulled her in for a tight hug. Rowena returned it, melting in the feel of your body against hers, comforting, warm, loving. You were her safe place, her haven, her home. She chastised herself for almost getting you killed, for hurting you when she didn't have to. You deserved so much better than her, deserved the world, and she would give it to you. She would give you everything.

She would give you her life, if she had to.

"Don't blame yourself, okay?" you said softly. "What happened is all on Michael. He did it. Not you."

Rowena knew that. She knew it, and still the guilt was tearing her apart like razors cutting her up bit by bit on the inside. "I let him in."

"He took advantage of you."

Ever her defender.

"I—"

"No," you cut in. "You nothing. It was all him, okay? Not Rowena. Michael. The bad archangel."

She had to chuckle at that. "Definitely bad."

"There you go," you said with a smile. "Now let's get some sleep. Tomorrow I'm treating you to breakfast in your favorite restaurant."

"Pampering me, are you?" Rowena teased, heart swelling with warmth.

"Always, honey."

"I am one lucky witch."

So, so lucky, she thought. Not many people would put up with her. You were a miracle, a gift that kept on giving.

She swore to never endanger you again.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
